Story of the Century
by MonkeyPaw12
Summary: After two hundred years of a frozen sleep, Brooklyn wakes to an apocalyptic world: and her baby kidnapped. As she looks for the kidnappers-with help along the way-she finds herself in all sorts of adventures and chaos. Each day feels longer than the last, and it can't be long now until she finds the boogeyman of the Commonwealth-wrath and fury following.


**A/N: I'm very excited to finally start a fallout story! I haven't had an idea on what it would be about, so this one I'm sort of making up as I go ^^; Not the best of ideas but hey. This is the first story I've done in first person, so if there are any errors, let me know! Anyway, hope you enjoy!**

 **Chapter One**

 **Never Say Never!**

The cartridges flew by my head. The sound of them in the enclosed room burned my eardrums. I couldn't hear anything but muffled noises and an annoying ringing. A man to my left pulled me out of the way of a speeding bullet. I turned to face my friend, Deacon. He was no taller than myself, had light, sunburned skin with faint old scars, and a black wig placed delicately on his head. His sunglasses made it damn near impossible to see his eyes, which perked my curiosity as to how dark it was in this room for him. That aside, his apparel consisted of a plaid shirt—currently covered in muck and debris alike—and the bottom of his jeans were stained with blood.

He hardly seemed concerned at our current situation: raiders surrounded us, and weren't exactly taking to our previous sneaking around their camp. Their leader, a skinny man with a cage-like helmet atop his skull, yelled out, "having fun yet!?"

Deacon scratched the back of his head, "How'd we get ourselves into this, pal?"

"God knows," I answered, reloading the pathetic pistol I held.

Looking around, I searched for an escape route. The wall we hid behind was being blasted by gunfire, making me shrink further away from the open corner. A _clunk_ caused me to lower my head. Next to my leg was a grenade. My heart felt like it was just jerked out of my chest as I panicked in the few short seconds it lay next to me. As quick as I could, I picked it up and threw it back in the direction it came from. Hearing it explode, I saw bits of flesh and bones land further in the corner of the room, confirming the grenade found its owner.

Deacon put a hand on my shoulder. Startled, I turned to him with wide eyes. "I have an idea," he grinned.

I straightened upward, "What is it?"

He pointed to the hallway down to our right, where five rooms created cover for a couple of raiders shooting at us, "There's a window in _there_ ," he was directing my attention to the doorway furthest from us, where a head and gun poked out of occasionally, "If we take out that lady—who's a _terrible_ shot—then we could break the window, jump out, and skedaddle."

My face was stricken with horror, "We're on the second floor, if you haven't forgotten! And it isn't like the first floor is buried under the ground, the height'll kill us!"

"Isn't that what makes it exciting?" Deacon grinned, "But no, seriously, we could just climb down the wall, no jumping necessary."

"Oh." I began to nod, "Alright, but I don't have an endless supply of bullets, and these guys are in some pretty hefty armor."

Deacon shrugged, "We'll just have to run faster than _their_ bullets." he suddenly dragged me closer to him.

The wall that I previously sat in front of was blasted into nothingness. "Shit, that was close," I managed to utter.

"Aww, come _on_! A missile launcher!?" Deacon shouted out over my head, "Can't muster up the courage to come over with your bats and pistols!?"

I shoved him, "Oi! If I wind up with a bullet in my head because you couldn't keep your mouth shut, _I'm_ gonna kill you. Now, come on, before _th_ _is_ wall is obliterated."

Taking one last glance over the new hole in the wall, I turned to the foreboding hallway. I crouched down and made my way to the closest doorway. A few clicks notified me that the person inside was reloading their weapon. I took this opportunity and dashed inside with a snarl. The man looked up with surprise, and froze in terror as I closed the distance between us. Before he could raise his gun, I whacked him up the side of his head. He fell to the ground instantly, groaning. Deacon poked his head in, "I'll go clear the next room, meet you down at the window, boss."

I gestured that I heard him before picking up the raider's gun. A simple pipe pistol, but fully loaded. The man at my feet began to wake from his daze. I hadn't yet realized, and before I could react, he had pulled a small knife from his belt and lunged at me. The blade came into contact with my shoulder—if I didn't move seconds before, I'm pretty sure my life would have ended there and then—and I let out a gasp. Instantly following, I slammed the weapon in my hand over his arm, causing him to let go of his.

Placing the barrel of my gun to his head, I pulled the trigger. I winced slightly at the sight of his skull being shredded apart, but didn't spend much time pondering about it. With a peek out the door, I scanned the hallway.

I withdrew swiftly when another bullet came my way. Quite a few shots were fired before a silence implied the shooter was reloading. Not missing an opportunity, I jumped out into the hall and discharged ammunition in the direction of the previous shots. I stopped when I saw a body fall over to the floor. _That was luck_ _y_.

I wasn't going to wait and find out if there were more lined up behind the wall, where they had hid, so I bolted down to the final room. Upon entering it, someone shoved me to the ground. In a flash I had rolled over and raised my head to better see my attacker. A woman—the one who had been shooting at Deacon and I earlier—with a thin, but sturdy looking wooden stick, had her arms raised behind her head. Readying my gun up at her, I pulled the trigger twice. The first bullet missed by a mile; however, the second found its way into her jugular. She gagged as blood pooled out of her neck. I let out a breath of air and stood upright as she fell.

I was standing in a classroom—nothing unexpected, I _was_ in a school—and noticed most of the desks had been knocked over or destroyed. _Damn the nukes did a number, even this far out._ I couldn't help a depressed sigh as the thought of kids in here crossed my mind. _Maybe they got to a shelter…_ I unconsciously touched my shoulder, blood still oozing out slowly. I had managed to forget the burning sensation it was leaving, as other things were occupying my attention.

Recovering myself, I shifted my gaze to the windows in the room. The ones that hadn't yet shattered were covered in filth and, the closest one, blood. The windows were rather… small; however, I didn't exactly have time to complain. I strode across to the last window, the entirety of its glass long gone. I examined the pane and sill for any remaining shards. Satisfied that it was safe to climb onto, I looked to the ground just outside the window.

Dizzy at the sight of the drop, I searched for ways to get down safely. A large tree was growing a little ways away from the building, its branches stretching as far as the above floor. Perfect. _Now to go get Deacon_.

I was unsure where he had run off to—there were only a few other rooms between this one and the end of the hall. With a slight sense of concern, I headed to the doorway. Just as I reached it I was met with a disarray of bullets. I threw up my hands over my face instinctively, slightly afraid of becoming victim to their hand.

I attempted to back up out of the entryway but couldn't quite find my step. Just as I tipped backward a hand grabbed the scarf wrapped around my neck. Whoever it was pulled me to my feet and dragged me across the room. Removing my hands from over my eyes I recognized the outline of my friend. Deacon turned to me—if it weren't for the lingering threat of our lives, I might have laughed at his twisted wig—and ushered me in front of him, "Yeah, we might wanna hurry on out of here."

"You won't catch me arguing." I muttered a response; but I soon felt my blood chill as I examined our escape hatch further, "Deacon, I'm never gonna fit in this window."

One of the shooters poked her head in the room and began firing at us. I couldn't believe the atrocity that was this woman's aim, as her cartridges were practically hitting the wall opposite us. _For Christ's sake, do these raiders even know how to use a gun properly!?_ Wait. _Why the hell am I complaining, we're the ones she's shooting at!_

Deacon glanced my way to give an encouraging smile, "Never say never!"

Not waiting to see if the raider would finally hit her target, I stepped onto the sill of the window. I had to lower my head as to not hit the top, my waistline was feeling compressed against the sides. It was as if someone was squeezing me. Ignoring the odd sensation, I started trying to get a hold of a nearby branch.

" _Damn_ it!" I heard Deacon hiss.

Turning to see what happened, I noticed his one free hand grasping his arm, red finding its way through his fingers. Realizing my delay was putting him in further danger, I decided to take a risk. Knowing it wasn't going to be anywhere near easy, I sat upright in the window—difficult enough because of its size, I was more hunched over than sitting. Taking in a quick deep breath, I jumped off the sill and desperately grabbed at the largest branch closest to me. I had managed to get my arm tightly wrapped around the tree's offshoot as it commenced in bouncing up and down with the sudden extra weight. Pain darted through my shoulder as I strengthened my grip on the branch. After a moment of adjusting to my current situation, I stretched my left arm out and started scooting sideways. My legs dangled awkwardly in the air beneath me as I made my way toward the trunk.

Meanwhile, the gunfire of the raiders inside were still to be heard, a wonderful motivation for me to speed my movement. The men and women who were still on the third floor were looking out of the window, guns aimed in my direction. It was all I could do not to let go in shock as their bullets came closer and closer to hitting me, destroying bits of bark here and there.

The tree's bough had stopped its springing, but it was still bending underneath me. I noticed movement in the corner of my eye, and turned my head to see Deacon was now crouched atop the windowsill. His gun strap was placed over his shoulder, one hand holding the top frame of the window. I noticed his gaze was fixated slightly below his feet. It was weird, it looked as if… "D-Deacon! _wait_! This branch can't—!"

"No time, boss!" He interrupted as he launched out of the window.

The moment he landed—arms flailing just as mine had a minute ago before he was able to properly grip the tree limb—I heard a sickening snap just to my left. I didn't need to look to know what happened, or what was about to happen.

More creaks transpired through the branch, prior to it entirely breaking from the tree. The pair of us pivoted to ground. The shots had ceased for a moment as we landed. I couldn't stifle a grunt as my legs came into contact with the earth. The branch had broken off at some of its thinner points, some of them falling right on us. "Well that sure hurt," I rubbed my head and turned to the body next to me.

Deacon was just regaining his focus when we heard the guns continue their firing. Looking for cover, I grabbed the back of his collar and hurtled for the fence. He was soon running beside me once he gained his footing. My legs were still sore from the drop.

I probably should have realized we were fish in a barrel at the fence, but I didn't think about turning around now. Analyzing as many bars as I could in the short amount of time it took to close the distance, I found a gap. Some of the posts had broken off and bent over to the ground, providing _just_ enough space to squeeze through. Once reaching this gap, I propelled Deacon through it. He became stuck halfway—a smaller breach than I initially thought—so, in an attempt to hasten the process, I kicked him in the hip. He let out a loud, " _Ow_!" before falling over on the opposite side.

I squeezed through the opening—momentarily unable to get through myself—and released a relieved sigh once I stood next to Deacon. We then proceeded across the street as fast as we were able, nearly slipping in a rather large puddle, and continued on until a few buildings stood between us and the school. Once at an alleyway, I stopped with a hand on the wall, gasping for air. Deacon followed suit and collapsed to the ground, his back to the bricks.

"Wow, that was close." I was rather surprised by the grin on his face.

I grew unsure whether or not he realized how close to death we just were. "Yeah, very."

A small silence ensued as we caught our breaths. I sat down on the concrete, examining the damage that had been done. Nothing permanent, thank God. However, it seemed as if my limbs were going to fall off my torso. Rolling up my pant sleeve, I lowered my face to the bruises that were forming from our earlier fall. Whenever we reached complete—or closest to complete as one can get out here—safety, I knew neither of us would be back on the road for a while.

I raised my head as I remembered Deacon had been shot, "Let me see that arm."

He seemed to have forgotten about the wound himself as he turned his gaze to look at it. He held the appendage out to me. The sleeve surrounding the area he had been cradling shortly before was stained red. "Well, it could be worse…"

He had rolled up his sleeve, revealing a small hole that was still releasing his blood. Inspecting his arm, I gently turned it and was relieved to find another hole where the bullet had exited. _Least_ _i_ _t isn't still inside._ "It doesn't really hurt much, nothing a doctor can't fix." Deacon shrugged.

I was sure he had winced, but couldn't be positive, what with those sunglasses shielding everyone's view of his eyes. "Ahah," I held up a hand, "But we don't need a doctor. I've got a stimpak somewhere in here."

Ah, stimpaks—or as I once heard someone call them by their full name, ' _stimulation delivery package_ '. The wonderful medicinal tool that healed any bruise, laceration, or even broken bones. How someone could invent this, I wasn't sure; but I wasn't about to complain or question the logic. I began digging around in the small pouch under my coat for the item. Finally finding it, I pulled it out and studied it.

It was small. The gauge at its top allowed me to see exactly how much was contained within it. Its middle was some form of container where the remedy remained concealed. The syringe at its other end hardly looked as if it should have been able to stay intact with the rest of the stimpak after all these years, but there it was, still pointy and surprisingly clean.

Taking hold of Deacon's arm, I stuck the needle just above the injury. I then injected the medicine, watching rather happily as his flesh started to mend itself. "Well thanks, boss," He grinned, observing the area the hole had previously been.

I threw it off to the side, "No problemo."

He lifted and dropped his arm several times, testing its mobility. He rolled the sleeve down and turned to me, "Looks like you got the better of it—only grazed here and there. Nice."

"This time, anyway." I stood up on wobbly legs, "I'm not so sure I'll be as lucky next time."

Deacon then rose to his feet, "No need to be pessimistic, you've made it this far."

He poked his head out of the alley, turning both ways to survey the street. While he continued to search for possible threats, I examined my stab wound. _Still bleeding, no need to worry though. Not that big of a hole._ I was kicking my legs out a bit, shaking it free of water, "Wonder if we'll find any dry socks on our way."

"Oh yeah, where we headed now?" He turned to me with a quizzical expression.

"Hmm," I held my left arm up close to my face.

The pip-boy—a portable computer-like device—sitting below my elbow came to life as I hit the power button. The green glow of the screen temporarily blinded me before my eyes adjusted. Sliding one of the buttons, I watched the picture on the screen change to a map—a map of the Commonwealth, that is. "Let's see… What was the name of that school?"

Deacon went back to look the way we came, "Boston..." He squinted, as if it would extend his range of vision, "Oh, the Boston Prep. School."

"Alright," I examined the map for a long moment, "Aha! That small house off of Nordhagen Beach. Maybe they'll have supplies?" I raised my head to meet Deacon's eyes.

He seemed skeptical, "You said it yourself, its a small house. I doubt there's much they can offer that they don't need themselves. Surely there's somewhere closer?"

"Well..." I scratched the back of my head, "Yeah..."

"Come on, what is it?"

"It's the 'Airport."

His face fell, "Oh."

Boston Airport; the place was owned by the Brotherhood of Steel, a fairly large group of soldiers. Deacon, as an agent of the Railroad, wasn't exactly dying to share space with them.

The Railroad was a form of a union trying to save synths who had escaped the Institute; the Institute being a well hidden faction of people who had figured out how to make a robotic race that was absolutely _identical_ to humans. This race, of course, were the synths. Some of them had managed to escape the Institute, and weren't exactly welcomed with open arms to the people of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. The Railroad were doing their damnedest to rescue them. The ones that were lucky enough to fall into the Railroad's path were given a new set of memories, everything to do with the Institute or their true nature wiped from their minds. A second chance for them.

The Brotherhood—and others in the Commonwealth for the matter—saw things differently; anything that isn't entirely human is considered vermin to them. Synths are just one of the things they want to wipe from the face of the earth. You'd think synths did them a personal harm for the hate they expressed. God forbid they ever caught the Railroad trying to escort one to a safehouse, it doesn't end pretty. Of course the Brotherhood aren't the only ones who harbor anger and wrath for them, but that wasn't the current problem.

Deacon gave a sigh, "Well, we should get moving. The sun'll be setting soon, and we don't wanna scare those poor bastards with our creeping in in the middle of the night."

I attempted to reassure him with a smile, "That's the spirit. Any plan for when we get there?"

A smirk grew wide on his face as he leaned his hip to one side, ideas obviously brewing in his mind. I waited patiently for him to spill his thoughts. He fanned his hands out to his sides excitedly, "Alright, remember the other night I ran that one thing by you?"

"Deacon you _run_ a lot of _things_ by me, which one are you talking about?"

"Plan 'Dingo'! It's perfect, they can't bother me and we won't have too many problems. How 'bout it?"

I started out of the alley, keeping quiet as I processed the suggestion. I began nodding, "Yeah, 'might keep us out of trouble, too. Well then it's settled," I turned to face him, noticing he hadn't moved.

"Let's go."


End file.
